


Warmth

by morthael



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morthael/pseuds/morthael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaworu and Shinji share a bed. Naturally, shenanigans ensue. Cue somewhat awkward interaction and tantrum throwing. Sometimes, those you push away are the best thing for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> First NGE fic, somewhat kawoshin, somewhat fluffy, somewhat angsty. Inspired by socially awkward manga!Kaworu. Finished at an ungodly hour in the morning while I was half delirious. Enjoy!

Shinji lies awake at night, one hand loosely curled around his SDAT, the other motionless by his side underneath the sheets. The music is almost the only thing he hears, comfortably loud in the stillness of the night, but when it lapses into brief silence – before the whirr-click of the track changing – he hears quiet breathing.

The blanket snags and pulls a little as Kaworu turns onto his side, a quiet exhale of air from his lips as he shifts. Shinji, too, turns, removing tufts of silvery hair from his view. He doesn’t know why he chose _here,_ this place, with its unfamiliar ceiling and uncomfortable company, and so he does his best to shut out the unwelcome intrusion.

Shinji angles his elbow underneath the blankets again, shivering a little as his body heat and the bed warms his arm. Or maybe he does know.

This place, _Kaworu’s_ place is somewhere he has never been before. Here, Shinji has found a place to run away to, unjudging and uncaring and without concerned or angry or expectant eyes. He grips the sheets, wondering why everything Kaworu owns is white.

Then, soft rustling and the mattress dips behind him. Shinji doesn’t have time to flinch before arms are flung around his side and suddenly there is hair brushing his cheek and weight across his waist.

He is still for half a second, and then jerks violently, twisting until he is sitting up, away, at the edge of the bed, sheets tangled around his torso. Kaworu blinks up sleepily at him, and Shinji feels a spasm of something – fury, perhaps – and his fingers reflexively curl into a fist, scrabbling at the linen of the bed.

“What are you doing?” Shinji asks, voice controlled just enough to not tremble. He was ready to give up personal space for the peace and quiet of one night, but this – this was too much. The other boy _scared_ him, his touch unsettlingly warm, and something rose up within Shinji whenever anyone reached for him, something that made him feel dizzy and nauseous and unsteady at the same time.

“Oh, you looked cold. I was just warming you up.” Kaworu’s red eyes look almost black in the darkness, half lidded as they are. Shinji looks for signs of mocking laughter, a joke, but the corners of Kaworu’s mouth are tucked down, and he looks almost…upset?

Shinji’s fingers loosen from their creaking grip, and he ignores the slight tension in them, the impressions that his nails have made in his reddening palms. “I’m not – I’m not cold. And you shouldn’t have done that even if I was.”

“Shouldn’t have done what?”

“Done that! Touched me. That’s wrong. That’s uncomfortable.” Shinji almost can’t speak, the words tumbling away from his mouth with him barely registering them.

Kaworu cocks his head to the side, but seems to accept this, settling back down onto the bed. His fingers clutch the top of the sheets, well away from Shinji.

Shinji does the same a minute later, although with slightly jerky motions, one hand still gripping the SDAT with a little more force than necessary.

It only takes the time for Shinji’s heartbeat to slow down to a normal speed for Kaworu to move again. He sits up, lithe as a cat, and bends over Shinji –

– who flinches backwards instinctively, only this time his hand reaches into air because he is at the edge of the bed, and suddenly he is toppling, falling.

Pale fingers close around Shinji’s wrist and he is saved, tugged back onto the bed by a boy who ignores all of the drama and has, by now, plucked out one of his earphones and is now listening to it intently.

It’s all Shinji can do to stare flabbergasted, stunned into silence. Blood thunders along his veins and it’s only when his vision clears that he realises that Kaworu’s fingers are still clasped over his wrist. His eyes track the arm to the body before he can move away. Kaworu’s eyes are closed, and his other hand is cupped to his ear, as if in an attempt to keep Shinji from tugging the cord away.

Shinji pauses in consternation.

“I did not know you listened to classical music, Shinji-kun,” Kaworu says finally, looking up. They are both sitting up now, the sheets bunched and rumpled beneath them. Shinji shrugs, the movement disguising him as he detaches his wrist from Kaworu’s grasp. He ignores the red glint and the knowing smile.

“I play the cello,” Shinji says flatly. The track changes, and a solo Bach prelude begins. He leans back, and is dismayed as Kaworu sways forward, slackening the taut cord between them. His eyes slide shut, and Shinji can hear him murmuring words under his breath.

“...the height of Lilim culture...” Shinji thinks he hears, but he doesn’t understand – he rarely understands anything Kaworu says – and remains silent.

A few minutes pass, the two of them sitting quietly, connected by a thin string. Shinji stares down at the bed sheets, wondering when Kaworu will get bored and return his end of the earphones. Kaworu, on the other hand, looks entranced, wild hair sitting tamely atop his head and breathing slowly and deeply.

“I play the piano,” he says quite suddenly. Shinji shrugs a little helplessly.

“I know, Nagisa.” He wants to go back to sleep. It’s late, and he can’t quite stifle a yawn that breaks past his covered lips.

“I think –“ Kaworu begins, but Shinji cuts across him.

“Shut up. Just shut up.”

Shinji rips out his earphones, fairly tossing them at the other boy. He drops the SDAT to the bed and twists around, flinging the blankets back over himself. _Let_ Kaworu listen to all the classical music he wants. Shinji curls up miserably, wanting nothing more than to black out and disappear from everything.

“I’m...sorry?” Kaworu’s voice is slightly hesitant, as if unused to voicing such phrases. There is a brief flicker of noise, and Kaworu’s shirt just brushes him as he leans over to press the SDAT player gently onto the nightstand. Then he retreats, and the absence of his body heat leaves Shinji colder than ever. “Is there nothing you want to talk about?”

With a wordless snarl, Shinji erupts, hurling himself at Kaworu. He glimpses wide red eyes before his palms impact with the other boy’s chest, knocking him downwards. “I _don’t want to talk!_ _I don’t want to listen! I’m so sick and I’m so tired and I just want to –“_ run away. Sleep. Disappear. Go away.

Kaworu grabs Shinji’s wrists as they ascend, slightly panicky as he pulls straining fingers away from his neck. “Calm – down –“

Shinji’s muscles are sore and he knows it’s a futile struggle now but he thrashes around nonetheless, tears springing unbidden to his eyes and a dull achiness behind his throat choking his words. _Why do I always hurt everyone I touch?_ “Let me go!”

The first tear glimmers dimly as it falls, landing with a soft splash on Kaworu’s cheek. Shinji stops struggling as he tires, and Kaworu carefully loosens his grip.

With a dull thud, Shinji lands face first in the pillow directly to Kaworu’s right, spent. His fingers still twitch, but he doesn’t respond as Kaworu quietly slips his own hand into Shinji’s palm, his thumb gently tracing the red fingernail marks from earlier. Shinji’s breathing is erratic, his back moving sharply with each quick intake of breath, and Kaworu wonders if he should do something about it.

Reaching a decision, he slides a hand under Shinji’s stomach and pushes, turning his body around. Shinji lies corpse-like, senseless and staring up at the ceiling above. Glistening tear tracks paint his face, and Kaworu runs his finger across one, hastily removing it as Shinji’s eyes close in – resignation? despair?

Shinji’s breaths are still irregular, sudden punctuations in his ribs with every gasp. Kaworu leans forward, and, somewhat whimsically, presses lips against lips, half unsure what to do but compelled by the instinct of triggering _something,_ anything. Maybe even deep, regular breaths.

Shinji reacts, a sound from the back of his throat. His arms half raise and somehow end up on Kaworu’s shoulders, squeezing and pushing all in one. He can’t _breathe,_ he has a stuffy nose from his ridiculous breakdown and he can’t –

As if sensing this, Kaworu lets up, red eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. Shinji has only enough time to draw a breath before the lips are back – wet, warm, strangely gentle when coming from uncomfortably awkward silver haired boys – _wait, when had Kaworu ever –_

“Na...Nagi....sa...!” Shinji splutters out as he wrenches his head to the side, his whole frame heaving as he gasps for air. “ _What are you doing?”_

Kaworu rocks back, blinking owlishly. “I was just stabilising your breathing, Shinji-kun.”

“Does – does this look stabilised to you?!” Shinji chokes out, uncomfortably flushed and slightly hysterical. If possible, Kaworu’s expression becomes more bemused, and he sits back, disappointed.

 Shinji pushes Kaworu back onto his side of the bed, attempting to ignore the expression that the other boy is giving him. “Just go to sleep, Nagisa,” he mumbles, burying his head in his hands. _God,_ he can still feel the warmth on his cheeks.

“You can call me Kaworu, you know,” the reply floats back, sounding softer than Kaworu ever has before. Shinji hates it as much as he is affected by it, and in the end guiltily turns around, disgusted at his own lack of control as much as losing it in front of the one person who doesn’t judge him...yet.

 “Good night...Kaworu,” he mutters finally, feeling like pulling the blanket over his head. He doesn’t, though, and is greeted by the brightest smile possible given the darkened room. Shinji feels like even more of a monster for attacking Kaworu now, and curls up while simultaneously feeling his embarrassed flush spread, chasing away the rest of the chill of the night.

He closes his eyes after that, but once again there are only a few moments of peace before Kaworu speaks again.

“Shinji-kun, are you warm now?”

Shinji turns onto his stomach and slams his head into the pillow.

*

It is morning when Shinji wakes, a small beam of sunlight peeking through a crack in the shutters and sending a line of light down his shoulder. He is comfortably warm, even though the sheets are quite thin.

Something tickles at his back and he turns, almost flinching back out of instinct at the sight of Kaworu curled up against his back, one gangly arm extended across Shinji’s torso. His forehead is pressed against Shinji’s shoulder, silver hair flat where in contact with another body. _Had he been there all night?_

Shinji feels blood slowly rising to his face and holds his breath, trying to mentally disperse it. Sighing when it fails, he lies back down, thanking the gods out there for the small mercy of a still-sleeping Kaworu.  He almost picks up the arm and places it back by the other’s side, although he hesitates at the last second before finally relenting.

Besides, it isn’t that bad anyway. It is just an arm, casually slung, warm even through the thin sheets. Shinji reaches out hesitatingly, finally running a thumb over pale knuckles, before leaning back and closing his eyes, content to sleep away the rest of the morning.

Kaworu’s fingers reach out and entwine their fingers more closely together.  

       


End file.
